


Until You Can Sleep Sound

by BLTrendafilov



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America Sam Wilson, Dramatic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nurse Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 14:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BLTrendafilov/pseuds/BLTrendafilov
Summary: Sam and Bucky have a rough day at work.Day one of the Sambucky week challenge





	Until You Can Sleep Sound

**Author's Note:**

> SUPER BIG THANKS to the lovely Drea for betaing this for me and generally being supportive and nice. Ily. 
> 
> Title is from Alex English by Dance Gavin Dance

The shield makes an awful clang as it crashes into the ground and Sam’s breath wooshes out of him as he lands in a heap next to it, his mangled wings catching on the fabric of the suit and tearing it. The battle is finally over, but God, at what cost. Sam’s sick of the whole evil robot trope. He wishes bad guys would get a new thing. He paws at the clip to release his wing pack. It feels like it takes an unreasonably long amount of time to get it undone and he lets it slide off. He gathers himself up into a sitting position with a groan. 

"Come in, Cap,” his com unit fizzles.

“Yeah? What’s up, Nat?” Sam looks around, spots her down the street struggling with a murder bot carcass. 

“Your belt’s been ringing for a good five minutes now, you should probably get that.” She tells him, all snark as she finally yanks her knife out of the murder bot’s view screen. 

“Oh, shit,” Sam hisses as he fumbles for his phone. A very important number is flashing across the screen and his heart jumps. He jams his finger on the answer button. “Hey, baby, everything okay?”

“No,” Bucky sniffs, “can you come pick me up from the hospital?” 

“Uhhhh…” Sam’s concerned, and a little scared of the way Bucky’s voice sounds dangerously close to breaking, but he can’t just ignore his duty. 

“It’s okay if you can’t,” Bucky mumbles. Sam hears the flick of a lighter and a deep inhale. Shit, it must be bad if Bucky’s smoking again. He shoots Misty an imploring look. 

“Your boy needs you, huh?” She sighs deeply from her position a few feet away from him. “Fine. Fine! I suppose I can stay and oversee the cleanup, but you owe me one Wilson.” 

Sam mouths a thank you at her, then tells Bucky, “I’m in manhattan, baby, and my wings are busted, but I can be there in about forty minutes. Why don’t you put that cigarette out, go back inside, get yourself some tea and a sandwich and wait for me in the nurses lounge, okay baby?” 

“Okay, Sammy… Thank you,” Bucky mumbles. 

“Anything for you, handsome. I’ll see you soon.” 

“See you soon,” Bucky sighs and the line clicks off. 

Sam sighs, too. He has no idea how he’s going to get there in forty minutes. 

“I have a very nice car stashed a few blocks away, Cap. You can borrow it, but I’ll kill you if you get blood on my seats.” Nat tells him. Damn her creepy ability to read him. 

“Thank you, Nat. I’ll do my very best.” He closes his eyes, gathers all his willpower into a tight ball, and relies on that to propel himself to his feet. He grabs the wing pack by a strap, picks the shield up in his other hand. 

“I’ll see you lovely ladies later. Text me later with updates!” He tries to lift the shield in an approximation of a wave, but it hurts too much. His arm gives out and the shield thunks into his thigh. Traitor. 

Natasha’s biting her lip to keep from laughing at him, but Misty has no problem laughing at his pain. 

“Bye, Wilson. Enjoy your walk,” she snorts.

“Let us know if James is alright!” Nat shouts at his retreating back.

He’s glad Nat wasn’t lying about how nice her car is. It’s a very handsome shade of green and it’s got soft leather seats and he sinks down into it with a groan. He groans again when he remembers he wasn’t supposed to get blood in it, but it’s too late now. He’ll get it cleaned up before he gives it back. The drive to the hospital takes forever and thoughts about Bucky spin erratically around in his head. Sam screeches into a parking spot and drags himself out of the car. He strips out of the top half of his uniform, but he didn’t bring spare pants. A sweaty black t-shirt and dirty ripped up uniform pants are better than the full messy get up. He leaves his shield and mangled wings in the back seat and double taps the lock on the clicker before heading inside. 

Sam greets the guard and all the nurses he passes. They all give him big smiles with worried eyebrows, until he gets to Bucky’s ward. Then it’s just the worried eyebrows and pointing him to the lounge while also suspiciously eyeballing his outfit. At least he knows Bucky followed his suggestion. A nurse walking past scans him in and he opens the door slowly, scanning around for Bucky. Sam finds him slumped on the couch. His soft blue scrubs are rumpled, but there's a sandwich wrapper clenched in one hand and a to-go cup in the other. His tired eyes are locked on to the small TV replaying footage from the big robot fight. 

“Hey there, handsome,” Sam greets him gently. 

“Sam!” Bucky startles and almost drops his cup. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in Manhattan cause of giant killer robots! We could’ve met back up at your place!” 

“You needed me, of course I came.” Sam tells him calmly, crossing the room to gather him up in his arms. “What happened?” 

“I… We lost Mrs. Gray,” Bucky mumbles into his chest, squeezing tight. 

Sam winces internally at the pain, but this is more important. “I’m so sorry baby. I’m sure you did everything you could.”

“She was such a sweet old lady.” 

“I know,” Sam rubs a hand over Bucky’s back, “is there anything you need to do before I take you back to my place?” 

Bucky shakes his head and slowly releases Sam from his death grip. Sam sways on his feet as the blood rushes back to his torso renewing the pain. 

“Woah, where you goin’ Sammy? Are you hurt?” Bucky grabs him around the biceps to hold him steady. Sam can’t hold back the wince this time as Bucky’s hand tightens around the cuts he got from his wing pack. 

“Nah, it’s nothin baby. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Don’t worry about it? Have you met me? Sit your ass down, Wilson.”

“I’m Captain America, you can’t talk to me like that.” 

“And I’m Captain America’s boyfriend, I can talk to you however I want. Now, park that cute butt on that lumpy couch, remove the shirt, and let me take a look at you.” 

“Yes, sir.” Sam says sarcastically, but he’s grateful for the chance to get off his feet. 

He gingerly strips out of his shirt with Bucky stepping in to help when he sees Sam struggling with it. 

“You call this nothing?” Bucky demands, hands on his hips. “What the hell, Wilson?” 

“Ouch, last name treatment? That hurts worse than all this.” Sam pouts at Bucky’s back as he retreats to the hallway to grab the supplies. 

It’s an awkward couple of minutes of Sam sitting on the couch shirtless, avoiding eye contact with the TV. He’s considering pulling out his phone to see if the girls have texted him yet, but he doesn’t decide before Bucky reappears, arms full of a sewing kit, glue, bruise cream, and bandages, and ointment.

“So tell me, how did this happen exactly?” Bucky asks, dumping all of his stuff on the couch next to sam. He pulls a stool over and starts gingerly probing at the edges of the massive bruise forming on his chest. “Nothing’s broken, right?”

“I don’t think so. You saw the news. More of those fuckin’ robots. Came flyin’ at me when I was tryin’ to unstick the shield from another one.” 

“And these?” Bucky asks, flipping Sam’s arms around to check out the slices from his wings. 

“Ah, well, this one robot grabbed my wings when I was trying to take off. Ripped ‘em up pretty good. Think I’m gonna need a whole new suit.”

“Really? You’re worried about the suit? I gotta put glue on most of these. And that big one needs stitches. What the hell, Sam?” Bucky huffs and dumps some alcohol on a sponge and starts cleaning his cuts out. 

“Truly, baby, I didn’t even notice. I was too worried about you. I heard you light up. I thought you quit?” Sam uses what little strength he has left to not wince away from the stinging pain and sit still. He still pouts though. 

“Yeah, well. I was a little stressed out. Sorry. Turn a little so I can get a better angle on your arm.” Sam moves as ordered and Bucky's mouth twists into a grimace as he stitches up the big cut there. 

“It’s fine baby, but next time why not just buy some gum?” Sam sighs, those are gonna itch like hell tomorrow. 

“It’s not the same and you know it.” Bucky shifts him to get at his left arm. “Good thing this one didn’t get it as bad.” 

“Yeah,” Sam sighs and they lapse into silence as Bucky finishes patching him up. He loses a few minutes staring at Bucky’s face. 

“Alright! All done,” Bucky informs him as he tucks the end of the bandage into the wrap he put around Sam’s knuckles. Sam jumps a little and Bucky gives him a questioning look. 

“Let’s get you home then,” Sam smiles, but it’s strained.

“I thought we’d go back to yours?” Bucky asks, he looks a little hurt, like he thought Sam was gonna drop him off at his apartment with Steve, but that’s not what Sam meant at all. Stupid, of course he doesn’t think of Sam’s place as home. 

“Right, right, yeah. Let’s go, baby.” Sam takes Bucky’s hand in his, careful of his bandages, and waits while Bucky grabs his bag before leading him to Nat’s car.

“...Is this Natasha’s?” Bucky asks as they walk up to it. 

“How did you even know that?” Sam asks as he opens the door for Bucky to get in. 

“She took me for brunch in this car a while ago, sap.” Bucky smirks, sliding in. Sam closes the door and circles around to the driver seat. 

“So, you and Nat do brunch?” He asks, side eyeing Bucky as he starts the car. 

“Yeah, sometimes. Why, you jealous?” Bucky asks, grinning now. 

“A little.” Sam makes a face at the road. Why is traffic never not insane. 

Bucky chuckles and leans his head against the window. 

“You can nap there until we get home, baby. I got you.” 

“Sure thing, Sammy.” 

It’s a quiet drive and over a lot quicker than Sam thought it would be given the amount of other drivers on the road. He parks in the residents only parking garage on the first floor and herds Bucky into the elevator. Bucky’s been suspiciously quiet since they left the hospital. Sam’s probably worrying too much, but it’s hard not to when you love someone as much as he loves Bucky. All he’s gotta do is tell him. He should. He knows he should. It’s been months. 

“I’m gonna go get cleaned up and changed baby, why don’t you get comfy and order us some take out. Maybe put together some movies we can marathon?” Sam suggests, toeing out of his shoes and ditching his busted gear by the door. 

“Sure, sunshine. Are you in the mood for anything in particular?” Bucky asks over his shoulder as he leaves Sam at the door to drop his bag by the couch. 

“Hmmm…. A kiss.” Sam decides, following after him. 

“That’s not food, dummy.” Bucky rolls his eyes, but Sam knows its fond. He hopes it’s fond at least. 

“Food for my _ soul _, Buck. Just as important.” Sam pouts at him and grabs his hips, pulling them flush together. “Can I have a kiss, baby?” 

Bucky gives him a put upon sigh, “oh, I suppose so,” he teases, smiling gently and wraps his arms around Sam’s neck. 

Sam smiles back. “Thank you, baby,” he whispers against Bucky’s lips before giving him a soft peck. The words _ I love you, I love you, I love you _echo around in Sam’s head, claw at the back of his throat, but his stomach knots and he knows he’s gonna chicken out again. He gives Bucky another soft peck and pulls away, “I’ll be back soon, baby. How about Mexican food and anything that isn’t Sci-Fi?” 

“What, you don’t want to see any more robots today?” Bucky asks, grinning. 

Sam shudders. “That was a low blow, baby. Why you bein’ so mean to me, after I just gave you all them sweet kisses! I should take my kisses back.” He gives Bucky his best pouty face and starts reaching for him. 

“Enough with your empty threats,” he laughs, twisting away. “Go get cleaned up, Sammy. Don’t get your stitches wet!” Bucky swats his ass.

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’! Stop assaulting me.” Sam flails at his hands, backing up towards the hallway. 

“Your ass is assaulting me with how cute it is!” Bucky calls after him. 

Sam sighs. He loves that man so much. 

He steps into the bedroom real quick and grabs a pair of sweatpants, decides to forgo a shirt. He hears a thunk out in the living room and sticks his head out the door.

“You okay baby?” he shouts down the hall.

“Yeah!” is the faint reply, “I just bumped into the stupid coffee 

table is all!”

“Alright… be more careful!” Sam shakes his head and strips out of his sweaty gross outfit, dumping it into the special Captain America hamper Bucky bought him. It’s covered in tiny shields and obviously meant for a child, but Bucky thought it was hilarious, so Sam loves it. 

He sighs when he unwraps the bandages from his hands. He’s sad to mess up Bucky’s hard work, but he doesn’t want to get them wet and he _ really _needs to clean up. He sets the water going, letting it heat up, as he pulls out a couple of wash rags, soap and a towel. He dumps everything on the counter and sets to cleaning up, avoiding his cuts as best he can. He takes the second wash rag and rinses it all off, dries off, applies his lotion and the creams Bucky gave him to their proper areas before pulling his pants on and heading back to his baby. 

Sam’s not sure what he just walked into. All the couch cushions are on the floor, piled high with blankets and comforters and pillows from his bed. The coffee table is scooted up over the makeshift bed, cartons stuffed full of steaming Mexican food set up with bottles of water and silverware on top. There’s some old cheesy romantic comedy paused on its title page on the TV, and all the lights are off except one in the kitchen. Bucky stands up from lighting one of the candles scattered around and gives him a sheepish grin.

“Hey there sunshine, don’t you look comfy. Ready to relax?” 

Weirdly he wants to cry. “Y-yeah,” he says too softly, clears his throat. “Yeah, baby. Wow, look at this. This is awesome.” Sam unfreezes and moves towards Bucky.

“You think so?” Bucky looks shy, embarrassed. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” Sam gathers him in his arms, gives him a soft kiss. “It’s perfect, I love you,” he tells Bucky, staring deep into his eyes. 

“W-what?” Bucky stammers, clutching the candle lighter awkwardly to his chest. 

“What?” Sam asks, all he said was thank you? 

“You love me? You mean that?” Bucky asks, slowly. 

Sam’s heart drops into his stomach which drops into a black hole probably. He can’t believe he just let it slip out like that. He’s frozen again, stuck staring into Bucky’s eyes. Sam’s struck by the way Bucky’s looking at him, like he’s happy and scared all at once. Well, here goes everything. 

“Of course I do, baby. I’ve loved you for awhile now.” 

Bucky seems to deflate, relaxing into Sam’s arms and resting his head on Sam’s collarbone. 

“I love you too, Sammy. Have since I first saw you.” 

“Oh, thank God. Wait, really?” 

“Yeah, you kidding me? Strong, handsome man like you? What’s not to love.” Bucky sniffs wetly. 

“Are you crying?” Sam asks, trying to pull back enough to see Bucky’s face.

“I’m not crying, you’re crying.” Bucky mumbles against his chest. Sam absolutely is crying, but he isn’t gonna admit it either. 

“Let’s go eat dinner in that wonderful nest you made on the floor over there before it gets cold.” Sam suggests, rubbing Bucky’s back. 

“Yes, let’s. I worked hard on this and we’ve both had a rough day. Let’s go.” The climb into the nest, pressed side by side. Sam on the right and Bucky on the left so they can eat and still hold hands. They watch this movie and the next one, at one point pushing the coffee table away completely and cuddling up under the blankets. Bucky falls asleep first, his head resting on Sam’s shoulder, around 3am. Sam kisses the top of his head and hits play on the next movie. 

When Sam wakes up it’s half past noon and he doesn’t remember falling asleep. He hasn’t slept this late in…. ever, he thinks. He doesn’t know how they managed to sleep at all, much less sleep in. He blearlily surveys the room. It’s too bright, the curtains left open, and he’s sweaty. The two of them are still piled under the same weighted blanket on the floor in front of the couch after a long, long night of watching old movies huddled together under this frankly ridiculously expensive blanket trying to keep the demons at bay. He can hear the TV still playing on a low hum, but he doesn’t bother trying to make it out. His chest still hurts, Sam suspects it will for a couple of weeks still. Bucky’s arm tightens around him, pressing into the bruise. _ Ouch _. He wiggles around, getting Bucky to loosen up, then rolls over. Bucky opens one eye and squints at him grumpily. He’s too fucking cute. 

“Hi there, handsome,” Sam whispers, “Come here often?”

Bucky wrinkles his nose and closes his eye. 

“Yeah, I don’t think you come here often enough either… you should move in with me.” 

Bucky opens both eyes this time, with a bonus forehead wrinkle of confusion. The cutest. “What?” 

“Move in with me, you know you wanna. My place is closer to your job and you can finally get away from all of Steve’s paint fumes. I’m pretty sure they’re making him dumber, by the way. Also --” Bucky cuts off his nervous rambling with a deep passionate kiss that's over way too quickly. 

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” 

“Definitely.” 


End file.
